


Summer Heat

by AriaDream



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate History, Archer and Diarmuid being themselves, M/M, Someone messing around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriaDream/pseuds/AriaDream
Summary: History can be a malleable thing. Someone is attempting to change it but the World does not have to cooperate. Two Counter-Guardians have been dispatched, but in a completely sealed state. What do they need to do? They need to take over teaching and guarding a very annoying boy by the name of Alexander... Sequel to Winter Winds





	1. The Beginning

Diarmuid wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead, looking up at the sky. It was a beautiful cerulean blue, nary a cloud to mar it. Nor to give him any shade and he damned well wanted that at the moment.

“This country is gorgeous but it’s too fucking hot,” Diarmuid grumbled as he lifted his helmet, trying to get a bit of air. He paused to look longingly at an olive tree giving plenty of shade. If only they could take a break under there! But he knew better, their commander would give them both a well-deserved boot up the ass if they tried.

“Stop complaining. There’s no sign of trouble,” Archer said calmly, as they slipped easily through the brush. They were scouts, looking for any sign of trouble and really damned good at it, complaining aside. They were also a pair of foreign mercenaries and therefore completely expendable.

“That’s good, I’m getting sick to death of being a damned target,” Diarmuid muttered, glancing at his arm. The new scar there would likely vanish when they went back to the bubble but it might not, too. “Why are we here?” Diarmuid breathed that and felt more than saw Archer’s shrug.

_Who knows?_  Diarmuid frowned at the transition to non-verbal communication. Archer usually did that when something was up and he sharpened his attention to the surroundings. _I just don’t feel like talking, it’s too hot._

_Hah!_ Still, he wasn’t going to let his vigilance up. Something might take the opportunity to stab them. _We’ve been here so long though._ Almost five years now.

‘Here’ was classical Greece. Archer and Diarmuid were serving beneath Phillip the Second, King of Macedonia. They were mercenaries and looked down on, on account of it. Archer was a Cretan, or so they claimed, but was sneered at for being an ‘ethiope’. Diarmuid was back to calling himself Daud and he was sneered at for being very obviously not Greek or Macedonian or anything these people knew. It was damned annoying really.

What really frosted the biscuit, though, was the simple fact that their skills were beyond reproach. Archer was the finest damned archer on the planet, even with nothing but a simple bow with heavy arrows. Diarmuid was easily among the finest swordsmen these people had seen. Damned good with a lance, too, but that wasn’t very useful. The Macedonians favored formations that made his clever footwork irrelevant. That same clever footwork and ability to sneak around made him invaluable as a scout, though. And Archer was every bit as fine.

_I’m sure we’ll eventually find out why we’re here. For now we should simply enjoy it,_ Archer said and Diarmuid nodded. Despite the constant campaigning this was almost relaxing. The two Counter-Guardians were sealed. They could only use human level abilities, until the World deigned to give them full access again. Diarmuid could use the runes and often did, but they didn’t have the oomph anymore. Generally he employed the healing ones to stave off infections, nothing more.

_I can’t believe what we’re scouting for though. They actually take this seriously?_ Diarmuid had a bit of trouble wrapping his head around it. They could be off fighting a war, like they were this time last year. Instead, he and Archer had gotten pulled out of their unit and passed around like a jug of wine at a party. Finally they’d been dragged in to see someone who fancied himself a general and sent to gather evidence of… farming. Apparently, the land here was supposed to remain unspoiled, devoted to Apollo. It seemed utterly nonsensical to him.

_As if you’re one to talk, Irishman._ Hey! _Pay attention, this is dangerous._ It was and Diarmuid wasn’t going to deny it. The ‘farmers’ here knew they’d be in trouble if they were found out. And given that this was some kind of political power play they’d no doubt have weapons.

They did need to eat, though, and they paused for lunch beneath an olive tree. Diarmuid was finally able to take off his helmet, fluffing his sweat damp hair. Archer wordlessly passed him a chunk of bread and Diarmuid took it with a smile. He had a nice bit of cheese coated in wax. Chopping it neatly in half, Diarmuid passed part of it to Archer. They both settled in to eat, needing to fill the hole. Sealed as they were, food provided most of their sustenance.

As they ate, Diarmuid watched Archer. He was eating as he always did, efficiently and mechanically, his honey brown eyes unfocused. Diarmuid thought he looked particularly handsome today, his white hair moving a bit in the breeze and his tan skin lightly dewed with sweat.

_If there’s one thing I love about this place it’s how they don’t blink an eye at the two of us,_ Diarmuid thought and Archer blinked, focusing on him before smiling, that tiny quirk of his lips that Diarmuid loved so much.

_Yes, that is very nice._ To the classical Greeks, men laying with men was taken for granted. In fact, it was almost idealized when it came to warriors. They believed it made the men stronger, formed powerful bonds. Diarmuid could see that although he thought the simple brotherhood of the Fianna had been every bit as strong. Archer really was looking wonderful though. Perhaps they could – _We’re not having sex under the olive tree._

“Damnit! Stop reading my mind,” Diarmuid grumbled although he was sure Archer had only gotten that from his face. Archer chuckled softly before standing smoothly. Diarmuid sighed and pulled himself up, settling his helmet back on before sloshing his canteen. Hmm. “We should look for water.” Wouldn’t be hard to find it but they needed a fill up.

“Yes,” Archer murmured, pulling himself up and putting back on his helmet. “You’re sure you can do this?” There was some concern in his honey brown eyes although he was composed as always. Diarmuid grimaced.

“Yes, although I’ll likely regret it.” They were talking about his runes. The asshole who’d sent them out had heard stories of Diarmuid’s runes and had quizzed him thoroughly about exactly what he could do. Diarmuid had perhaps revealed a bit too much of what the air runes, in particular, could do. “I’ll be fine.” He’d recover, it would just hurt.

“Hm.” Archer frowned a touch but said no more. They headed out again, searching for the evidence.

They found it shortly after that, a farm that was clearly within the range of Delphi. Diarmuid was careful to position himself in a spot that gave a vantage of the temple before raising his hand and tracing an air runes. This part required no great power and the air rune glowed for a moment before Diarmuid snatched it out of the air, embedding it into his flesh. It burned briefly before vanishing, becoming part of him for a time. Bringing it out would complete the spell and that was what would cost him.

“Too bad we don’t have a cell phone,” Archer murmured and Diarmuid nodded.

“Then we could report back right now.” Rather than having to wait until they got back. “And send the pictures as an attachment… ah, might as well wish for the moon.” Then Diarmuid switched to non-verbal communication. _Is there a well and do we dare use it?_

_Yes, over there. I’ll get it, you’re useless,_ Archer’s tone was affectionate though and Diarmuid sighed before settling down. What class was he this time? Saber or Lancer? He wasn’t Caster, that was all he knew. Archer might even be Assassin, they didn’t really know since the World had incarnated them right into sealed state. If Diarmuid was betting, though, he thought he was Saber and Archer was Archer. He could be wrong, though, particularly about himself. He was weakest with the runes as Saber.

Either way, though, Archer’s stealth was vastly superior, learned from Hassan himself. Diarmuid waited patiently as Archer skillfully used the cover. The only bad part was using the well itself but he managed it well, getting them water swiftly. Then he was back in the brush and Diarmuid breathed a bit easier.

Then they were heading back and Diarmuid didn’t let his guard down. It was tempting, but that was the problem. Too many scouts made the mistake of thinking they could relax on the way home and it just wasn’t so.

They didn’t make it back before night fell and this wasn’t the modern era. There were no lights save the moon, no flashlights to light there way. They paused briefly to consult.

_Shall we press on?_ Diarmuid could tell Archer was ambivalent about it. His own feelings were very mixed as he looked up at the moon. It was a clear night and the moon was half-full, giving plenty of light. They could press on but…

_I don’t think so. Too many rocks, too easy to have an accident._ In daylight there was no chance of slipping and spraining something. Or worse, breaking a bone. And they would heal like humans. Even if Diarmuid put everything he had into a rune it would only speed things along a little. _Let’s camp._ Although not a real one. They’d just find a good place to curl up together, sharing body heat beneath a blanket.

Well, they’d eventually share body heat. First, they wanted to do something else.

_Nothing messy, we don’t have rags,_ Archer said practically and Diarmuid smiled as he rested a hand on his lover’s belly.

_Or oil._ That’d be a daft thing to take on a scouting mission, the jar would likely break. Diarmuid undid the pin, a fibula, holding Archer’s tunic in place. Ancient Greek clothing was ridiculously simple although he took care to put the pin back in the fabric. It was all too easy for them to become lost and they were not cheap.

Any thought of pins went to the wayside as Archer grasped his bang and pulled him into a deep kiss. Diarmuid enjoyed every moment, savoring the feeling of Archer’s body against him. His own pin was undone and the clothing slid from his body, puddling on Archer until it was swept aside. Archer dropped the pin into the discarded folds and then they were skin against skin, sliding smoothly against each other as they explored. They both knew every inch of the other’s body but it didn’t matter. Under the light of the moon, in these ancient hills, it all felt new again.

Diarmuid blinked as Archer sent him a wordless image, the two of them engaged in… Diarmuid felt the heat in his face and knew he was blushing. Growling softly, he nipped Archer’s shoulder, and felt the shake that was a silent laugh. Still growling, he obeyed the instructions, moving off Archer and shifting his body around.

When Diarmuid was done, Archer was beneath him, his body positioned so they could pleasure each other. Archer’s cock was heavy and erect and Diarmuid easily went down on it. As he took it in his mouth, he felt Archer doing the same to him, the sweet pleasure of being inside Archer’s throat. Ah, it was wonderful!

Diarmuid half-closed his eyes, enjoying the sweet musk of his lover as he gently stroked the line of Archer’s balls. He hollowed his cheeks, giving Archer more suction and felt the other man doing the same to him. Gentle hands caressed his testicles and Diarmuid moaned deep in his throat, aware that the vibrations would torment Archer. And it did. Archer tried to jerk up but Diarmuid had a hand firmly on his hip, holding him back. Too much of that and he would choke.

As they continued the pleasure became more and more intense. Diarmuid found that spot behind Archer’s balls, a place he knew was sensitive, and pressed on the skin. Archer arched up and this time Diarmuid didn’t stop him, prepared to take that length as deep as he could. Diarmuid managed it, his nose almost brushing Archer’s balls. Then his eyes went wide as he felt the tightness around his cock increase, Archer’s wetted finger sliding into his ass. Was he…? Diarmuid moaned, low in his throat, as Archer massaged his prostate. God that felt so good!

_I’m going to cum,_ Diarmuid thought, his mental voice breathless.

_Me too do it._ The desperate need in Archer’s thought took Diarmuid over the edge. He felt his balls tighten, then that beautiful moment when his body found satisfaction. Archer’s cock throbbed hard in his mouth and Diarmuid felt it erupt, swallowing the flood of semen. With his cock so deep in his throat it actually went down easier, or so it seemed to him. Was that odd? Well, he wasn’t going to ask anyone…

When they were both finished, Diarmuid slowly pulled away. Feeling exhausted, he moved off Archer before gazing down at him. The moonlight seemed to shine on pure white hair and Archer smiled at him, his eyes half-lidded and tired and oh god was there a bit of semen on his cheek? Diarmuid gently wiped the white fluid away before settling beside his lover and grabbing his discarded clothes. Making sure the fibula was hooked to something, Diarmuid pulled the cloth over them to act as a blanket. It wasn’t too warm but this was high summer. It would be more than enough to keep the night breezes at bay.

Exhausted and satisfied, they curled together and soon slept.


	2. Moving up in the World

Diarmuid would never say it because he wasn’t a moron and didn’t want his head handed to him, but he did not like Phillip II, King of Macedonia, at all.

It was because the man reminded Diarmuid of his father. There was actually a physical resemblance, although a slight one. It was really his manner, the unconscious arrogance that he carried. Even more than that, though. Diarmuid had met plenty of arrogant lordlings over the years but few of them had put him on guard so. Diarmuid pursed his lips as the general scraped and fawned, trying to isolate exactly what he didn’t like. Ah, of course. The potential for violence. Diarmuid could easily picture Phillip deciding to cuff his general.

Then, though, the general was introducing them albeit as ‘a pair of foreign mercenaries’. Diarmuid wondered what that was supposed to accomplish given that he wanted Phillip to listen to their reports.

“I am Daud and this is Archer.” Diarmuid said, meeting Phillips’ gaze firmly. He’d learned the hard way you didn’t show weakness to men like this. Phillip’s one eyed gaze – where had he lost the other? Battle somewhere – was irritated.

“I don’t care who you are.” …Well then. Diarmuid glanced at Archer and saw he was still as a statue, his face utterly serene. “What did you see?” Diarmuid gave his report emotionlessly. Archer added a few minor details about the size of the farm. Phillip looked them over before snorting and turning to his general. “And why should I believe this foreign trash?” Fuck you too King Phillip. Diarmuid thought he understood what was going on here, though. This general – likely a high lord – wanted Phillip to take action and Phillip would really much prefer not to. So he’d undermine the witnesses.

Unfortunately for him, the general had a trump card.

“Daud here is a foreign sorcerer.” …That was a bit grandiose. Phillips’ gaze snapped back to him. “Daud?” Taking a deep breath, Daud raised a hand and traced the air rune.

The scene of the farm, with the temple in the distance, appeared in the air. It was not solid at all, misty and indistinct. Diarmuid clenched his teeth, feeling the sweat building on his forehead as Phillip hissed a curse. Fighting with himself, he struggled to solidify the image. Diarmuid gradually managed it and details sharpened. It was clearly a farm and too close to the temple.

“My lord. I… cannot…” Diarmuid felt like something inside him might snap if he kept this up. Fortunately the general waved to him.

“That’s enough.” Diarmuid dropped the illusion and then felt the backlash. He managed to lurch back enough to avoid throwing up on Phillips’ sandals. He did decorate the floor though, heaving up his breakfast.

“Daud!” Archer’s hands on his forehead felt so good, cool against his overheated skin. “Here, drink this…” Archer was pressing a canteen against his lips and Diarmuid drank, steadying it with a shaking hand. What was this garbage? It tasted disgusting! Ignoring that, Diarmuid downed it, trusting that it would do him some good.

“This is what you call a sorcerer?” And Phillip was back to sneering at them. It was Archer that responded, as Diarmuid fought to keep the drink down. Sweet and salty… oh, water with honey and salt in it, clever.

“He was once a true sorcerer but his enemies defeated him and sealed his abilities. His knowledge is greater than the power he can bring to bear, that is why he is sick.” Archer’s hand gently rested on his back as Diarmuid managed to straighten a bit. “Here…” Archer was giving him a piece of cheese and Diarmuid bit into it gratefully. “I will clean this up, if my lord has a rag?” Fortunately there were a few available. Diarmuid wished he could help but he honestly wasn’t sure he could walk. He was just barely managing to stand.

As Archer cleaned up his puke – he’d really have to thank him for that later, a few ideas came to mind – Diarmuid listened to Phillip arguing with his general. He disparaged them all a bit but then finally capitulated, promising he’d lead a campaign against the miscreants.

Then, though, things suddenly got interesting.

“However, I want these two in my train,” Phillip said and Diarmuid blinked. What? “They could be of use to me. Do you have magic as well?” Phillip asked Archer and he hesitated a moment before nodding.

“I do, taught to me by my grandmother. But it is very specific and weak.” Archer frowned, just a touch. “I can demonstrate but please do not be alarmed,” he said and Phillip gestured impatiently for him to continue. “Trace on.” Archer’s hands suddenly filled with gleaming metal and Phillip’s gaze sharpened as he looked at the blades.

“Interesting. Yes, I might have use for the two of you… if you’re loyal.” Phillip’s smile was cold and mirthless. Diarmuid wondered how he’d have them prove that. Just send spies to look into them or would he want more? “But I’ll not have two sorcerers in the common ranks. Take them to Koinos,” Phillip said to the general, who did not seem the least bit surprised. Likely he’d anticipated Phillips’ reaction to seeing magic done in front of him.

_We’re moving up in the world,_ Archer said wryly as they were escorted to a new man, another general, who would apparently be ordering them now. Diarmuid smiled wryly at the thought.

_No doubt what the World intends._ Although Diarmuid still wondered what the World ultimately wanted. True, time really had no meaning but why station them here for so long? It was most unlike their other missions. Well, there had to be a purpose behind it. Archer was sure it somehow involved Alexander or Iskander, as he’d later be known. Yet, he had to be a child at this time. It didn’t make much sense. Diarmuid shrugged to himself.

They’d figure it out sooner or later.

* * *

 

For the next two years, Diarmuid and Archer made themselves indispensable to King Phillip.

The experience of working closely with him only cemented Diarmuid’s dislike for the man. Phillip had a propensity for violent rages and could issue absolutely brutal punishments for even minor infractions. He was constantly starting new wars, trying to grab more land, and engaging with prostitutes along the way. Overall, Diarmuid thought he was a grasping, unpleasant sort of man. Still, they knew which way their bread was buttered and Diarmuid was rather good at lying by now. So he smiled and behaved as charmingly as he could, while Archer mostly played the statue.

Unfortunately, Phillip might have been a sad excuse for a human being, but he was also intelligent.

“What does your ‘friend’ think?” Phillip asked, a bit of extra emphasis on ‘friend’. Diarmuid grimaced internally at that. While Phillip didn’t exactly hold it against them, he was more than willing to needle them about their ‘friendship’ and they didn’t dare retort back. Still, it was an odd question. What did Phillip care what Archer thought? “I know men like you. You do all the talking but it’s your friend who makes the decisions.” Eh? Diarmuid tried to hide his surprise but thought he failed, from the nasty smile on Phillips’ face. “Every time you’re about to say something important, you look at him first.” …Damn! “So what do you think, silent one?” Diarmuid couldn’t help but glance at Archer. He might as well have been a bronze statue, for all the expression on his face.

“I think I prefer to let Daud do the talking,” Archer said calmly. A small, wintery smile quirked his lips. “He is more tactful than I am.” That was true, Archer never had any trouble telling someone their ideas were dumber than a slug in a salt convention. Diarmuid usually managed to put it more diplomatically. Phillip’s eye narrowed for a moment and Diarmuid was afraid he might take offense. But then he suddenly barked a laugh and they went back to the real topic, what the two of them thought of the enemies’ positioning.

Finally released from the interrogation – Diarmuid couldn’t help but think of it that way – he and Archer made a grateful escape.

_I hate watching him trying to bully you like that,_ Archer’s thought was laced with contempt and Diarmuid winced. That was too close to true. _I couldn’t handle him the way you do. I’m sorry._ Diarmuid blinked. Sorry?

_Don’t be sorry. I’ve handled men like him before, I know how it’s done._ Although unfortunately, that brought his own father to mind. Diarmuid grimaced, rubbing his forehead before speaking aloud. “Shall we go find some wine?” He was feeling the need to get a little drunk now.

“Hmm, yes,” Archer sounded a bit preoccupied. Well, hopefully a bit of wine would cure that.

They repaired the tavern, which was really just a bunch of crude tables slodged together. They had some choice of vintage. They could have the weak, nasty stuff, which was basically safer than the water. Or they could have something better but they’d be paying for it. Diarmuid had negotiated a raise some time ago so they had a bit of money to burn. Archer picked out their favorite, a vintage from Lesbos. (that always made Archer smile. Diarmuid wasn’t sure why) Then they settled in to drink and eat a bit of cheese and bread.

Diarmuid watered the wine, not because he wanted to, but because doing otherwise would get some idiot busybody all horrified. The Greeks believed that unwatered wine could drive a man insane or even kill him. Archer drank his straight until Diarmuid firmly added a bit of water for him.

“Why are you ruining my wine again,” Archer said with a small sigh, shaking his head at the stupidity of it all. Diarmuid took a deep draught of his wine before answering.

“So you don’t get called to the carpet for potentially ruining your brain by our beloved king.” Archer lifted an eyebrow and Diarmuid smiled at him. “You think he wouldn’t do it?” Archer contemplated it for a moment.

“God, he might. Horrifying. Fine, ruin my wine,” Archer’s small smile and the warmth in his eyes pleased Diarmuid immensely. So did the color of the wine, a rich tawny shade. They’d once had wine that was inky black and that had just been off putting. After living in the modern era many times, Diarmuid knew wine wasn’t supposed to turn that color.

“I miss beer but this is a decent substitute,” Diarmuid allowed, enjoying the wine. It was different from modern wines, full of odd herbaceous notes. Diarmuid rather liked that, to tell the truth. “Archer… is it alright that I let you make the decisions?” Oh damn where had that question come from? Archer focused on him, surprise flitting through his eyes.

“It doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?” Archer said and Diarmuid struggled for an answer.

“It… bothers me,” Diarmuid admitted, looking into his wine. “I’m a follower, always have been.” That thought hurt and Diarmuid genuinely hated that about himself. Yes, it had been a good trait for one of the Fianna, but his father had sneered at him that he’d never get anywhere in the world like that. Diarmuid blinked as a warm hand encircled his wrist.

“You can’t change who you are,” Archer said quietly and Diarmuid met his honey brown eyes, seeing a bitter pain there. “Don’t regret it and don’t hate yourself.” Diarmuid was shocked that Archer had guessed his feelings so easily. Archer saw that and gave him a small, sad smile. “I know the taste of that all too well.”

“Archer…” Diarmuid couldn’t resist. He drew the other man into a gentle, tender kiss, not caring who might be watching. He knew exactly why Archer would hate himself, how could he not? Diarmuid didn’t want him to feel that way, though, Archer was wonderful and the mistakes he’d made had brought them –

Then some idiot whistled at them.

“Hoi you two!” Oh bloody hell. Diarmuid pulled back, seeing Archer’s silent laughter in the shake of his shoulders. They did like this moron, they really did, even if he was a damned nuisance. “Doing that in public? Have you no decency?!” The third man landed across from them, planting himself on the bench as Diarmuid scowled.

“What?! You fucked a prostitute under that bench over there!” And it hadn’t been well hidden either. The man grinned and Diarmuid examined him for a moment. His name was Hector, no relation to the hero by that name. Hector’s hair was dark brown and cut short and he had a small beard. He was handsome enough, although not strikingly so.

“I want to see the two of you fuck on the table!” …Say what? “How much wine would it take for that to happen?” Diarmuid was actually speechless. Fortunately, Archer responded smoothly.

“There’s not enough wine in the world,” he said and Hector’s grin widened.

“I think that’s a challenge! More wine over here!” He waved to the bartender. Unfortunately for Hector, though, that got attention.

“YOU! You’re not getting another dram until you pay your tab!” The mild panic on Hector’s face was highly amusing and Diarmuid felt Archer’s silent laughter. “In fact, get the fuck out!”

“No no no don’t kick me out I’m having fun! I, uh, have money I do…” Hector began frantically looking for anything that looked like money. Diarmuid took pity on him.

“He’s with us. Another jug of wine please, same vintage,” Diarmuid said, holding up his coins. The bartender grunted but took them, giving Hector the stink eye as he did. Hector left off his pawing, greatly relieved. “You really need to keep track of your money better or one of these days someone’s going to stab you.” Hector owed practically everyone in the camp money, mostly from losses at dicing. Fortunately, no one actually expected to be paid.

“I know, I know… oh thank you!” Hector accepted a kylis and had a good try at draining it in one go. Diarmuid was impressed at his dedication, these cups were not small. In fact, they were more like bowls. “Oh this is nice. Lesbos?” Diarmuid nodded as Archer calmly drank his wine. “I owe you both.”

“Repay us with a good spar tomorrow.” Hector was one of the few in camp who could actually give them a good fight. And that was one of the few things he could pay them with. Hector looked a touch unhappy at the thought.

“I’m an old man – alright alright!” Archer had mimed pulling an arrow. Hector raised his hands pacifically. “I’ll do it!”

“Why do you even say that? You can't be much past thirty,” Diarmuid said, drinking his wine. Hmm, this needed some food. Fortunately there was bread and cheese available. Diarmuid took a piece before pushing the plate towards Hector who was more than willing to help himself.

“Habit I suppose,” Hector said vaguely and Diarmuid wondered what that meant. Then he decided he didn’t care as Archer leaned against him a little. Hmm, that felt nice. “Oh, did you two hear the news about Phillips’ heir?” That broke the moment instantly and they both gave Hector all their attention.

“No, what?” Diarmuid asked and Hector frowned, taking a drink of his wine.

“There was an assassination attempt. Almost all his bodyguards were lost. No one can quite figure out why though, he’s still nothing but a child and Phillip has plenty of sons.” …None of whom were destined for greatness. Shit! “Anyway, his mother is in a frenzy over it and they say she’s helping recruit his new bodyguard.” …Oh dear gods. “You two might get called in, you’re both well known. I’m hoping I get called actually. Might get a raise!” And Hector desperately needed it the poor fool.

“Well, we’ll be cheering for you,” Diarmuid said easily and Hector smiled, eating bread and cheese. Diarmuid drank more of the wine, enjoying it. Ah, delicious.

After a while drinking and eating, Hector talked them both into a dicing game. Dicing was really one of the only games available, cards not being invented yet. Diarmuid had considered trying to introduce them before deciding it was a bad idea. The World might not appreciate them meddling with history, even if it was already being meddled with.

Hector lost yet again, and badly too. Then things became amusing.

“Will you forgive my debt if I fuck you both?” Hector asked, his eyes wide and appealing. Archer laughed out loud as Diarmuid mock-scowled.

“Psh, as if we’d reward you!” Diarmuid jibed and Hector looked a touch dejected. Damn, did he really want to fuck them? Probably, he was well on his way to drunk.

“We forgive your debt. There’s no point in trying to get blood from a turnip,” Archer said, amused, and Hector looked a touch unhappy.

“Are you calling me a turnip? I’m not a turnip. I mean, I’m fairly sure,” Hector said before finishing his kylis of wine. “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me I should go see if I can find anyone who will.” Good luck, the prostitutes did not take promissory notes. Although maybe one of the other warriors would take poor Hector up on that. “Well, tomorrow then!” Right, the spar, that would be fun. Hector almost stumbled over the bench leaving though. How bad would his hangover be tomorrow? Well if it was bad they could kick his ass and he’d deserve it.

“I like that idiot,” Archer said affectionately and Diarmuid smiled as he finished his wine. Should he have more? Hmm, yes, a bit. He poured himself the last of the wine, reflecting on the fact that two jugs was rather a lot. How many bowls had Hector put back? At least four, probably five.

“Everyone does.” That was what kept Hector breathing. If anyone else had been so feckless at dicing they’d likely have been stabbed by now. Yet, no one could ever get upset at Hector, he was just too damned nice.

“Hmm, it’s getting late. I just want to sleep,” Archer murmured and Diarmuid nodded. It had been a tiring day, he didn’t mind a bit. “Can I have a bit of that?”

“Surely.” Diarmuid poured a bit of the wine from his cup to Archer’s and they finished the vintage together. Then they left the bar hand in hand, to retire to their tent. As they settled in for the night, though, Diarmuid reflected on Hector’s news.

Alexander would need new bodyguards. Surely this was what the World wanted of them.


	3. Recruitment

The next day, Diarmuid woke up to warm breath in his ear and a hand gently stroking his belly.

For a moment, he just savored it, the deliciously masculine scent that was Archer and the feel of that hand making circles on his abdomen. Then lips gently kissed him, just beneath his ear, tickling the sensitive tissue of his scar. A wet tongue flicked out, tracing the edges of the scar and Diarmuid shivered as that hand dipped a bit lower, sliding gently over his sex. Diarmuid caught Archer’s wrist then, turning his head to meet his eyes. His lovers were warm with lust and love and Archer’s smile was beautiful.

“You fancy an early morning frolic?” That was pretty rare but it did sometimes happen. Archer’s smile deepened.

“Yes.” That simple answer was followed by a deep, intense kiss. Diarmuid turned to face Archer, shifting beneath the blankets.

For a time they just kissed, slow and gentle, deep and intense. Diarmuid explored every inch of Archer’s mouth as if he was attempting to memorize him and Archer returned the favor, his lips and tongue so alive and warm. Warmth pooled in Diarmuid’s groin and he could feel Archer’s hardness, poking him in the thigh. Ah, perhaps he should do something about that. Reaching down he gently grasped Archer’s cock and began to slowly stroke, feeling the velvety skin. Hmm, but some oil would make that better.

“Archer, the oil?” Diarmuid breathed when he had a moment and Archer nodded, rolling onto his back and reaching to the side. His hand found the jar and he opened it. Diarmuid watched, entranced, as Archer sat up and shifted so one leg was up. The blanket fell away, revealing his tanned body as Archer brought oil slick fingers to his own hole. Diarmuid swallowed hard as he watched Archer prepare himself. The wicked little smile on his face, the way Archer’s eyes moved to watch him, told him how much the other man was enjoying teasing him. And Diarmuid was painfully erect. Well.

Sitting up Diarmuid reached for the jar and dampened his own fingers. As Archer stretched his hole, Diarmuid coated his cock in the oil, stroking himself as he watched the show. Archer smiled, settling on his back and spreading his legs in silent invitation. Diarmuid took the hint and mounted him, adjusting his hips before sliding home in one smooth move. Archer’s soft moan, the lust and mild pain fogging his eyes, joined with the tight, wet heat around his cock into a delicious whole. Diarmuid paused for a moment, giving Archer time to adjust to being filled, before slowly sliding in and out of that clutching heat.

Muscled thighs gripped his waist, warm brown arms holding him close as Archer breathed encouragements in his ear. Diarmuid obligingly speeded his thrusts, taking care to scrape across Archer’s prostate. The low, lustful moans were music to his ears and Diarmuid nibbled along Archer’s neck, tasting the sweet sweat. Pausing to suck just beneath the point of Archer’s chin, Diarmuid thrust in particularly hard, feeling Archer gasp and tremble beneath him. The insides around him seemed to clutch and Diarmuid had to hold himself back from cumming. Breathing heavily, he looked into Archer’s face, the sweat beading on his tanned skin and the burning heat, the desperate need in his honey brown eyes. Diarmuid kissed Archer again, feeling the intense connection between them as their bodies rose and fell. Could this get any better?

It could, as the passion between them increased, the speed of their coupling reaching a fever pitch. Diarmuid was careful not to hurt Archer – they were more fragile as humans – but he knew what his lover could take. Archer suddenly stiffened, biting Diarmuid’s shoulder to stifle his cry as he came. Diarmuid was less restrained. The feeling of Archer’s body suddenly tightening around him, the splash of his semen between them, took him over the edge with a heavy cry. Diarmuid pressed hard into Archer, feeling it as emptied himself once, twice, three times into that clutching heat. Archer’s body seemed to milk him, encouraging him to give more.

Then the moment was over and they were both left sweaty and gasping. Diarmuid took a moment to get his breath back before kissing Archer, slowly and intimately. A tanned hand went through his hair before gently stroking his face, toying with his scar. Diarmuid pulled back then away, his penis sliding out of Archer with an obscene squelch. Archer looked down at the mess with a mildly contemplative air before smiling, that sweet little quirk of his lips. Diarmuid watched as Archer gathered a bit of the cum on his chest with a finger before sucking it off. Their eyes met and despite the riding they’d just had Diarmuid felt his cock twitch.

“Damnit you know what that does to me,” Diarmuid said huskily and Archer’s smile widened.

“Oh yes, and I love it.” Curse him! “Mmm, the rags?” Oh right.

After a few minutes of cleaning, they pulled on their clothing and clipped them in place with the fibulas. Then Diarmuid took care of the unpleasant but necessary chore, cleaning the rags. Cloth was in short supply and they couldn’t afford to throw the things out. As Diarmuid washed them in a bucket he thought longingly of the modern era. Tissues were an invention of the gods.

He was just pinning the rags up when someone stumbled up, yawning and looking a bit hungover.

“I promised you a spar right? I seem to remember,” Hector said, squinting up at the sun as he rubbed his forehead. Diarmuid was a bit surprised to see him so early. “I’ve got guard duties later, if we’re going to do it we need to do it now.” Ah, that explained it. “Where’s Archer?”

“Off getting us some breakfast.” That was the better chore of the two, for certain. Diarmuid wasn’t going to complain thought, not to the man who took his cock. “Hard boiled eggs might be involved.” The camp had plenty of hens. Hector suddenly looked hungry.

“I hope he has enough for three?” Hector asked hopefully and Diarmuid chuckled. He was fairly sure Archer would bring back enough, they tended to save a bit for lunch.

“Quite likely – ah, there he is.” Archer was back with a loaf of bread and, as promised, hard boiled eggs. Also a nice bit of sausage and some figs, how marvelous. “That looks like plenty,” Diarmuid said to Hector’s great happiness.

They all settled in, finding good places to sit and tucked into the bounty. The sausage was particularly good, someone had put in some nice herbs. Diarmuid enjoyed every bite.

“Oh, this is so good, even the bread is better than usual,” Hector said and Archer nodded as Diarmuid looked at it, a touch surprised. It was a bit more tender than usual though. “Must have gotten a good grind on the flour.”

“Hmm, yes. Enjoy it while you can, we’ll be out on campaign soon.” The food tended to go a bit downhill then. The bean stews had less time to cook and simmer, developing beautiful flavors, and the sausages usually became nonexistant. Hector looked a little morose before suddenly brightening.

“Not if I can join the prince’s bodyguard! Then I’ll have sausage every day!” That seemed optimistic. But perhaps he was right, who knew? “And eggs and wine and cakes – “ Oh psssh.

“Keep dreaming Hector, keep dreaming,” Diarmuid said, amused. “The prince will get the cakes. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll share a bite or two.” That was if the prince got cake. Maybe he didn’t. Hector made a face but didn’t argue the point.

“Well, I’ll settle for sausages. Marvelous, marvelous sausages.” Hector suited actions to words and polished off the last bit of his meat and bread. Then he leaned back with a sigh. “Oh, that hit the spot!”

“Mmm hmm.” They were all about done. Diarmuid finished a last fig – they were so good fresh – before pulling himself to his feet. “You ready?” Hector smiled, his grey eyes full of merriment as he climbed to his feet.

“I am! Surprisingly so for an old man!” …Again with the old man thing. Huh.

“Were you born an old man?” Diarmuid jibed and Hector smiled, a few little wrinkles around his eyes. Archer’s smooth voice cut through the banter easily.

“He’s just dreaming he’ll make it to old age. Or perhaps he’ll just delay so long we’ll all die of it.” …Haha! Diarmuid grinned as Hector gave Archer a mildly hurt look. He returned it placidly. “We all know you’re fated to die young.”

“…” Hector looked genuinely stung for a moment and Diarmuid wondered if they’d gone a bit too far in their teasing. But then he forced a smile, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll both die young too. Not too many of us make it to old age, eh?” That didn’t sound as friendly as Hector likely meant it to be. No, it sounded bitter.

“Ah, of course we will! Who wants to get old when we can have glorious adventures?” Diarmuid said lightly, trying to ease the mood. It worked a bit as Hector laughed. “Come on, we both want to kick your ass old man.”

“Pssh!” Good humor restored, they went to the training area. Plenty of other warriors were already at work, attempting to hone their skills. That was how you survived real battles.

Archer took on Hector first, using his wooden practice weapons. For mere humans, with many varying degrees of skill, it wasn’t safe to do otherwise. Bones still got broken in practice but the bruises were scarcely worth mentioning, just enough to let you know what you’d done wrong. The weapons themselves were well made, weighted to approximate normal swords.

Hector truly was a marvelous swordsman and he was in fine form today. He danced around as beautifully as Archer and Diarmuid enjoyed the display of skill. A few of the other spars actually paused to watch the two of them clash. Diarmuid leaned against a pole as he watched, seeing the intense concentration on Archer’s face as he struggled to keep ahead of the other man.

In the end, Archer was defeated, but it was a close thing. He ended up on his knees with Hector’s ‘sword’ pressed firmly to his neck as they both panted. There was some applause from the watchers and Diarmuid pushed off his pole with a grin.

“Well done both of you! Want a breather before it’s my turn?” Diramuid said to Hector, who wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead.

“Oh please yes!” So they settled in to rest and drink a bit of the really bad wine. It was a shame they had to drink it but the water in this camp was unsafe, they’d learned that the hard way. They wouldn’t have that problem on campaign.

As they rested, Diarmuid noticed a strange woman hanging around. She didn’t look like a prostitute to his eyes. Her hair was a bit too nicely done and there was another woman with her who had the look of a slave. Also a few warriors seemed to be hovering around her. She wasn’t making an obvious fuss so he couldn’t be sure the warriors were assigned to her but Diarmuid thought they were. Who was she? Aside from –

“Gorgeous!” Of course Hector would notice that she was nearly Aphrodite incarnated. Diarmuid sighed and kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”

“Pull your tongue in or someone will cut it off. She’s not a tart,” Diarmuid advised before pulling himself up. “Come on, it’s my turn.” And he was eager to get started.

Fighting Hector was always a thrill, partly because he was a tricky bastard. On the battlefield, though Diarmuid was every bit as treacherous. It took him quite a while to corner and ‘kill’ Hector but he managed it, with a great deal of triumph. Hector took his loss well, laughing as Diarmuid helped him back to his feet.

“Gods, you’re a remarkable soldier! Ares himself would be glad to have you by his side! I – “ A voice interrupted Hector and they both turned in surprise.

“Marvelous! Oh, you’re both perfect!” The beautiful woman and she was even more gorgeous close up. She was short too, a pocket Aphrodite. Diarmuid had to resist the temptation to look at her tits. “You’ll both be perfect to guard my son!” …Do what now? Fortunately Hector was quicker on the uptake.

“You must be the lovely lady Olympia!” Hector was kneeling, head bowed and Diarmuid belatedly followed. “We are truly honored to meet you!” Oh yes they were weren’t they. “I am Hector and this is Daud. Our friend here is Archer, he lives up to his name!” Hector gestured as he stood and the woman looked quizzically at Archer, who inclined his head in a gesture of respect.

“An Ethiope? I don’t know,” Olympia said dubiously and Archer blinked slowly before shaking his head.

“I am Cretan. My grandmother was a true Ethiope and the reason why my skin is an odd shade, but I am not.” Archer said and Olympia brightened a bit.

“Oh, that makes sense! You definitely are odd looking for an Ethiope, I’ve never seen one with white hair.” Or skin that particular shade, Diarmuid was sure. To these people though, everyone with dark skin got called an Ethiope. Just like everyone who wasn’t clearly Greek or a nearby neighbor got called a barbarian. Although Diarmuid was willing to admit the judgement wasn’t unfair, mostly. Not that these fucking Greeks were really any prizes – “Can you show me your bow?” Archer smiled politely and pulled his bow off his shoulder.

The display of archery that followed was beautifully skillful. Archer had an incredibly powerful draw on his bow and demonstrated it, his arrows punching deeply into the targets. The bowstring snapped against his arm a few times, harmlessly thanks to his bracers. The arrows themselves went exactly where he wanted them to go. Archer demonstrated that perfectly with his final shot. An arrow already in the target was neatly sliced in half, a trick Diarmuid had witnessed before. To the audience, though, it was incredibly impressive.

“Oh WONDERFUL! Yes, I’ll take all three of you! I’ll go tell my husband!” Diarmuid glanced at Archer and met his sidelong glance. How would that go? “In fact, come with me, we’ll take care of this right now!” …what fun!

It was fun too, it really was, although Diarmuid manfully hid his enjoyment.

“These two are my best soldiers!” Poor, poor Hector, left out of that. Diarmuid saw him deflate a little. “And that one’s good too!” Oh, a perk up! “Damnit the boy doesn’t need this, it was just an accident!” Say what?

“It was not! That was sabotage husband! The gods wouldn’t try to take my son!” Olympia shrilled and Diarmuid’s gaze slid towards Archer. He was impassive but there was a coldness in his gaze. “That cliff didn’t just break off by itself!” She was right, curse it, but Olympia had no idea what was really behind it.

“Everyone says it was an assassination attempt,” Hector offered helpfully and Phillip shot him a nasty glare. He raised his hands pacifically. “Not that I’d know anything really!”

“Everyone is right though and Alexander is your heir. Isn’t he worth more than three of your soldiers?” Olympia demanded and from the look on Phillip’s face Diarmuid thought the truthful answer was no. He had plenty of sons after all. But if they knew how their bread was buttered, Phillip did too. He might have many sons but Olympia had just one and she was his favorite wife.

“Very well, I will give them to you. But just these three, Alexander does not need more guards,” Phillip said firmly and Olympia looked satisfied. Then she rewarded her husband with a deep and passionate kiss. Diarmuid stared over their heads, internally gagging a little. Mainly because he disliked Phillip so much. Did Olympia really love him? Well, he didn’t know her yet. Perhaps she wasn’t much of a prize.

They were allowed to return to camp to gather their items but then, they needed to report to the palace. There wasn’t much to gather and soon they were walking up to the spread out manor that served as a palace. Not very defensible but it wasn’t a castle in the traditional sense. The city as a whole was walled, with their military camp being outside the walls.

_Are you thinking what I’m thinking?_ Diarmuid asked Archer as Hector chattered happily about the possibility of more coin and nice bedding made of rushes or fleeces.

_It wasn’t an assassination attempt. The World culled Alexander’s bodyguard to make way for us._ Archer’s thought was ice cold. _The real attempt on him is still coming and we don’t know what form it will take._

_What about Hector?_ Diarmuid wondered to Archer as he politely responded to a bit of Hector’s chatter. He didn’t seem to care that Archer was completely preoccupied. There was a long pause as Archer mulled it over.

_I believe he is what he appears to be but he might be an enemy. We should keep an eye on him._ Diarmuid hoped Hector wasn’t an enemy. It would really sting if he turned out to be a backstabbing weasel. Damn but the man was likeable. _I did wonder if he might be one of us but I can’t believe the World would send three._

_God but I hope not. That would mean there’s a need for three. And the actual Hector would be a Heroic Spirit. They can’t be the same._  The World could only order around Counter Guardians, not Heroic Spirits. Hector was also a reasonably common name, it was highly unlikely he was the great hero.

“Ares, Mars and Apollo!” Arms suddenly went around both their shoulders and Diarmuid stumbled as Archer gave Hector a dirty look. “Cheer up you two! You’re acting all serious and boring!” Hector’s joy was infectious and Diarmuid felt his lips twitch. Archer shook his head with a small smile. “I know how I can cheer you up! I’ll blow you both off!” …Do what now?

“No thank you Hector that’s quite alright,” Diarmuid said, trying to get away. Hector let him go but only so he could settle more firmly against Archer, who was looking martyred.

“I’ll just blow off Archer then and see if you get jealous. Then you can fuck me in a jealous snit, how’s that?” Hector said happily and Diarmuid picked up a rock and threw it at him. He danced back, the rock passing by harmlessly. Archer used the moment to escape. “Hey now!”

“Stop it you ninny. Why don’t we think about a hot bath when we reach the palace? I hear they have hot springs,” Diarmuid said and Hector looked enchanted while Archer looked interested. It was true too, Diarmuid had overheard a noble mentioning it. “And the baths are communal so you might get to innocently take a look at Olympia’s tits.”

“Ooooh!” Hector practically skipped ahead of them and Diarmuid and Archer exchanged an amused glance.

Hector might be a complete idiot but they were really very fond of him. Diarmuid hoped he survived.


	4. Meeting Alexander

Their first glimpse of Alexander the Great, King of Conquerers, was underwhelming.

Fortunately, Diarmuid had expected that. The poor child was only twelve? Fourteen? That was a terribly awkward age. Still, he didn’t quite expect an uncoordinated scarecrow in the middle of a growth spurt. The red hair was obviously inherited from his mother and on her, was silky and shiny. On poor Alexander it looked like an alley cat’s pelt. His clothing was all too short, another victim of the growth spurt. Altogether, Alexander did not cut a fine figure at this point in time.

The young prince was also not pleased to see them.

“How do you think you’ll replace my Parocles?” Alexander demanded and Diarmuid blinked, his opinion of the child abruptly going up. He was mourning his dead bodyguard. Would Phillip have ever felt that way? HAH! Yet, he didn’t know what to say.

Fortunately, Hector did.

“We can’t. The living can never truly replace the dead,” Hector said compassionately, meeting Alexander’s eyes. “We can only do our best with you and eventually, you may find room for us in your heart.”

“So you can die too?” The raw pain there. Diarmuid felt like he was watching a private moment between Alexander and Hector, they were so deeply involved in each other.

“Perhaps. We are warriors after all and our place in the world is to die. And if we do I hope you will remember us, as you remember your Parocles, and take us with you as you go.” Hector paused for a moment before giving Alexander an understanding smile. “I am very pleased to hear this from you, my prince. A lord who never asks such questions is not truly a man worth serving.” Ah yes. Diarmuid could suddenly see the seeds of greatness in Alexander. Men would be loyal to him because of who he was, not simply because he was the King.

“I… see.” Alexander rubbed his eyes for a moment before squaring his shoulders. “I know I need new bodyguards, it’s just rather soon. Still, I have to get used to it. Diona, can you please show them to their quarters?” An older woman bowed before gesturing to them. From the collar on her throat she was a slave yet Alexander had addressed her by name. Truly, this child had potential.

And speaking of potential.

“Hector, you had a real moment there. Keep that up and you might actually get somewhere,” Diarmuid said, and Hector actually blushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. Archer added his piece.

“Yes, that was impressive. I had no idea how to handle that, good job.” Archer said and Hector hunched a little, looking embarrassed.

“I probably shouldn’t have but well… I’ve lost a few people over the years,” Hector said, suddenly sounding melancholy. “Quite a few…” He rubbed a ring on his hand. Diarmuid had noticed that ring before because it appeared to be real gold and could fetch a pretty penny, but Hector never sold it. He’d never asked about it and didn’t intend to but thought he could assume it was very important to Hector. “Ah well.” Then they reached their rooms and Diarmuid had to correct the woman slightly.

“Archer and I share a room.” They should have spelled that out earlier. She looked surprised but handled it well, letting them move the beds – just fleeces really – together into one room. “Thank you.” She accepted the thanks with a nod.

“I bet it’s big enough for three!” And Hector was back to being an idiot. Archer and Diarmuid exchanged an amused glance.

“Keep dreaming Hector, keep dreaming,” Archer said calmly as Diarmuid settled in their meager belongings. Hector got taken off to his own room, which was right beside theirs. “He’s much smarter than he acts,” Archer said in a low tone and Diarmuid nodded.

“Well, we never really thought he was stupid.” Hector behaved like a feckless idiot but there was a fine brain between his ears. He was just disinclined to use it. Or sometimes, he used it all the wrong ways. Diarmuid vividly remembered the money making scheme he’d hatched with a few of the other men, selling painted eggs. Hector had managed to sell them as sacred to the gods and the whole thing had gotten off the ground… before splattering on priestly disapproval. “Well, whatever. We’ll just have to make sure he teaches Alexander the right things.” He could learn a lot from Hector as long as he ignored the stupid bits.

After settling their possessions in they all got to experience the hot springs. In the camp, you typically bathed in a bucket if you bathed at all. Getting to settle into warm water was incredibly pleasant. To Diarmuid’s intense amusement, he caught Hector staring at Archer’s ass as he got into the pool. Well, it was a very fine ass. Hmm, they could use a strigil. It was a combination of brush and backscratcher, used to remove oil and dirt. Diarmuid glanced around and saw a few against the wall. Leaving the water, he went to fetch them.

_Hector is staring at your ass,_ Archer’s thought was full of amusement and Diarmuid chuckled as he got the scrapers and turned around, seeing Hector abruptly looking away, a blush on his cheeks.

_Maybe we should give him a pity fuck someday,_ Diarmuid said, meeting Archer’s eyes as he joined him in the pool. Archer met his gaze evenly for a moment and Diarmuid worried that he was upset. Then Archer’s lips quirked up, just a little, and he breathed easier.

_Perhaps, but not until we’re surer of him._ That was good sense. Hector might still prove to be an enemy, although they both thought it was unlikely. Diarmuid settled back into the water with a sigh, setting the strigil within easy reach. He’d use that a bit later.

And so he did, first on Archer. Archer rested against the edge of the pool, his chin in his arms as Diarmuid scraped him down. There was plenty of old oil and dirt, buckets didn’t do a marvelous job. To his further amusement, Diarmuid noticed Hector watching them with a warm gaze. He was just lazing on his side of the pool and Diarmuid noticed he had a fine chest, although marred with a very ugly scar.

“When did that happen? You’re lucky to be alive,” Diarmuid asked and Archer lifted his head to look. Hector looked down at his chest with mild surprise before chuckling.

“Oh, that. Promise not to laugh?” Hector’s smile was a bit sheepish. Diarmuid shook his head. “When I was just a boy I loved taming horses.” Archer’s gaze suddenly sharpened and he stared at Hector intently. “I was a bit, um, overconfident and I took on a stallion who was a bit too much for me. He bucked me off and I hit a tree branch. Broke a bunch of ribs and took off a lot of skin. Never any real danger though, it looks uglier than it was.”

“Ah, I know what you mean,” Diarmuid said with a smile. “I’ve got a scar like that on my buttocks. A horse bit me,” he said as they both looked at him. Hector’s mouth opened soundlessly for a moment before he grinned.

“Let me guess, you were bending over the feed bucket?” Diarmuid laughed and nodded. “What a bastard! Was it a stallion?”

“No, a hell beast of a mare,” Diarmuid remembered the horse with a bit of wry humor. “I got my own back though, we slaughtered her and ate her that winter.” Diarmuid pulled the strigil away from Archer before moving to Hector. “Want a scraping?”

“I thought you’d never ask! Surely you didn’t eat her for that though?” Hector said, turning around the same way Archer had, for a good back scraping. Archer had the second scraper and was working on the easy parts, pleasure on his face. Diarmuid shook his head as he began cleaning off Hector.

“No, she kept picking fights with the other horses. Father finally got sick of it when she beat up the damned stallion.” Hilarious but not good for the herd. “So we had some good stew. I quite enjoyed it.” One of the few decisions his father made that Diarmuid completely agreed with. The other horses hadn’t seemed to miss her a bit, although it was tough to tell with animals. Hector chuckled softly.

“I’ve known horses like that. Sometimes they’re just smart and spirited, not willing to tolerate idiots. But sometimes, they’re just full of meanness. The first will make a marvelous mount for an excellent horseman. The second? Get rid of it, too much trouble.”

“Mmm, yes.” Diarmuid thought Hector was right. He’d known a few horses that were pure evil in his time. “I knew one demon horse, no one could ride him but his master. But for that one man, he’d do anything.” What had that knight’s name been? He couldn’t remember. “They both died together in battle.” The story said the horse had fought over his master’s corpse until an enemy had hamstrung him. Diarmuid hadn’t seen it but he believed it, with that horse.

“I don’t know horses, just horsepower,” Archer said with a completely straight face and Diarmuid snorted a laugh. To his surprise, Hector also laughed before suddenly stopping and looking away. Diarmuid couldn’t see his face at all, curse it, but Hector shouldn’t have gotten that joke.

“You mean using horses to pull stumps out of fields? That kind of horsepower?” Hector said innocently but Diarmuid didn’t buy it. He glanced toward Archer and their gazes met. _You don’t think he could be?_

_I still don’t see how it’s possible. Hector of Troy can’t be a Counter Guardian._ Couldn’t he? Diarmuid lifted his eyebrows and jerked a thumb at himself. Archer nodded a little, silently conceding the point. _You might be right. Hector was also known as the Tamer of Horses._ Oh really. _If he is one of us, though, he’s an ally and we shouldn’t out him._ Good point.

“Something like that,” Diarmuid said aloud before leaving off the scraping. Hector grabbed his hand before he could leave.

“Let me help you out,” Hector’s tone was gently seductive, the smile on his face warm. Diarmuid nodded his acceptance, settling in for his own scraping. The feel of the strigil on his skin was mildly painful but in a wonderful way. “Speaking of things it’s a miracle we survived, how did you get these burn scars? Must have been incredibly painful.”

“Mmm, that was a fire as a child. I can scarcely remember it,” Diarmuid said vaguely. In a way, the World had been merciful. The scars were just a memento of his death, he hadn’t needed to endure the painful process of healing. “I was lucky to live though, they thought I wouldn’t.”

“Can you tell me how you lost your magic? Everyone says you used to be a sorcerer but no one really knows anything.” Ah, now they were getting into the realm of outright fantasy. He and Archer had already talked out their story, though.

“Mmm, yes, I learned magic very young. Unfortunately, my father had enemies. They captured me and sealed me before returning me to my father. Then, he exiled me in favor of my younger brother,” Diarmuid said and felt Hector pause at the scraping. “He was an asshole.”

“HAH!” The scraping resumed, to his pleasure. “And how did the two of you meet?”

“I took a ship and ended up in Crete when they happened to be gathering up mercenaries. So I enlisted and we went on the same boat. Became fast friends and then it became more,” Diarmuid said, glancing at Archer. He was gazing at them with heavy lidded eyes, in some danger of falling asleep. Heh. “Don’t fall asleep, you could drown.”

“Oh shut it, I think that’s a myth,” Archer murmured and Diarmuid laughed. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Hector.

“Well, that’s our story. What’s yours? Are you nobility?” Hector had that feeling, when he wasn’t being completely feckless. Also, the ring on his hand suggested it. Hector sighed softly, a sad look on his face.

“Oh yes. Our enemies brought us low, utterly ruined us. I took a new name, travelled far away. This is my marriage ring,” Hector said and Diarmuid blinked. Marriage? “She’s dead, some time now. My child as well… ah well.”

“I’m sorry,” Diarmuid said softly, wishing he hadn’t asked. Archer also murmured his condolences but Hector just shrugged.

“It was a long time ago. There, I think that’s good.” Yes, it felt good. Diarmuid turned over to see Hector smiling at him. “I love to see the two of you together. It’s a beautiful thing, true love.” …Dear gods. Diarmuid felt his face heat.

“Thank you Hector and we’re still not going to fuck you,” Archer murmured and Diarmuid laughed. Hector looked hurt for a moment before shrugging and smiling, scooping a bit of water up and dousing himself. Hmm, that looked nice.

When they were all about to turn into prunes, they vacated the bath. Diarmuid and Archer both got the pleasure of knowing Hector was watching them as they dried themselves. Honestly, it was amusing and slightly flattering, that he found them both so desirable. Of course, it helped that it was Hector. From some people, men and women both, that regard would have felt filthy. From Hector it felt cleaner, amusing and in good fun.

After they were done, they got shown to Alexander and began their duties. That quickly got interesting.

“I don’t know if mother told you, but Parocles was also my teacher in skill at arms.” Alexander said firmly, meeting Archer’s gaze. Archer blinked slowly before dipping his head. “Are any of you able to teach?”

“I am, but my skill is primarily with my bow,” Archer said after a moment before glancing at Hector. He shook his head.

“I’m good at teaching letters and numbers and philosophy and whatnot, but not the physical things. Could never slow myself down, my brother said I did it on purpose but I really didn’t,” Hector rubbed the back of his neck and they both looked at Diarmuid. He nodded after a brief hesitation.

“I’ve trained young men before, although usually they were already skilled.” Although… “How far along are you?” Diarmuid asked Alexander and he began describing some of his training. It was reassuring to Diarmuid, since it all sounded right. “That sounds good, let’s get started.” If Alexander wasn’t a total novice this might work.

And so it proved. Diarmuid quietly blessed Parocles and mourned his loss because he’d been doing excellent work. Alexander was well grounded with the sword and spear, handling them both with reasonable skill. His main problem was lack of coordination and that had a lot to do with the zany growth spurt he was going through, the poor child. Diarmuid worked the boy to tiredness but not exhaustion before calling a halt. They rested for a bit before Diarmuid made a suggestion.

“Was Parocles teaching you archery?” Alexander shook his head. “Then why don’t we follow this with a session from Archer? He really is incredible with a bow.”

“I don’t know… bows don’t seem like a very noble weapon to me.” Alexander said and Diarmuid blinked, a bit bemused. Noble?

“War is about making the other man die, that’s all. Although I admit, for dramas sake, very few kings wave around a bow,” Diarmuid said and Alexander laughed. “Still, you ought to learn. If you ever get separated from the column, which can happen to anyone, you can use it to catch game.” That suddenly caught Alexander’s interest.

“Hunting! My father has been suggesting I go boar hunting but that might be even better.” Boar hunting? Diarmuid winced a little at the thought. He was glad he hadn’t died like that although his actual fate hadn’t been a lot better.

Alexander was awful with a bow and demonstrated his incompetence, laughing at his own mistakes. Archer was a good teacher, though, and the last few arrows actually got near the target. Then, of course, it was time for lunch.

Lunch was absolutely awe-inspiring although not in the way Diarmuid would have expected.

_I’m waiting for him to explode,_ Diarmuid thought in absolute awe as Alexander tried to single-handedly demolish the entire lunch course. Archer’s lips were twitching as he dipped a piece of bread in olive oil before taking a bite.

_I doubt the World would let that happen. And from how the servants are behaving, it’s normal._ Yes, that was true, they were replenishing the plates without comment. _It’s his growth spurt. I imagine he also sleeps a great deal._

_Incredible._ If he tried very hard, though, Diarmuid could remember a few scarecrow years of his own, where nothing fit and it felt like his balance was perpetually off. Hmm, he’d eaten a lot of food too, barley gruel mostly. Always a pot of that on… hey, had that been just for him? Diarmuid suddenly suspected it had been.

_While he might be eating a lot you should try eating something._ Oh! Diarmuid blushed before taking a sausage. It appeared Hector had been right about the sausages and he’d grabbed a plateful. Diarmuid noted with amusement that Hector was trying gamely to keep up with Alexander, despite it being a lost cause.

“After lunch we have to go shopping with my mother,” Alexander said, sounding like there was nothing he less wanted to do. Poor child. He pushed back a bit of red hair from strangely red eyes. They reminded Diarmuid of Cu Chulainn, oddly enough. “I tried to get out of it but she insisted,” he said with a grimace. “You’ll have to decide which of you gets to be a bodyguard.” Eh? “The others will be her pack mules.” …HAH!

“Shall we dice for it?” Hector suggested, pulling out a set of dice and Diarmuid and Archer exchanged an amused glance. Hector wanted to avoid work but it wasn’t likely, with his skill at dice. Well, they could humor him. Diarmuid took the dice, making the first roll.

It would be amusing to see Hector doing physical labor for a change.

* * *

 

_How the hell did Hector manage to win?_

“Ugh,” Diarmuid muttered, struggling to carry his share of the purchases and see where he was going. It didn’t help that the bitch had added a few jugs of wine. _No idea. How are you holding up?_ Diarmuid blinked a bit of sweat out of his eyes.

_Remembering my least favorite aspects of boyfriend duties. And Rin didn’t buy half this much._ Who? Diarmuid thought about asking but then decided he really didn’t care about Archer’s past flames. _I wonder if Phillip conquers so much to fund her shopping habits?_

_HAH! Could be._ Although there was a bit more to this trip than personal shopping. As Phillip’s primary wife, Olympia acted almost as a chatelaine, taking care of many household aspects. She was placing all kinds of orders on this trip which the merchants would arrange to be delivered. However, a lot of random and expensive stuff was falling on them to carry. _Oh god another jewelry shop._ That habit was clearly out of control.

“This is so boring,” Alexander muttered and received a sharp cuffing around the ear. “OW! Mother!”

“Be quiet! How do you think this one looks?” Diarmuid debated putting down the stuff and finally decided he had to or his arms were going to fall off. He squatted carefully and rested everything on the ground, thankful for the great baskets they used to carry it. Archer had already set his down, he noticed, and was looking deeply fatigued, sweat on his tanned skin. Hector was bright eyed and bushy tailed, the bastard.

_I’m tempted to shoot him,_ Archer grumbled and Diarmuid rather agreed. Could he stop rubbing it in? Although all he was doing was standing there, hand near his sword as he stood with a kind of placid calm that screamed ‘I am dangerous’ to Diarmuid. He was sure Hector would be all over any attacker. _It’s still annoying._

_I agree. Next time, the two of us roll to see who carries things._ Hector didn’t get to roll, the evil bastard. He was on carrying duty. Archer dipped his head in agreement.

Then there was the sound of a slap and they all turned, startled. Even Hector was distracted from his guard duties as Alexander stormed past them. Archer and Diarmuid exchanged a wide-eyed glance as Hector hurried after the prince. What should they do?

“ALEXANDER!” Now Olympia was flying after them and Diarmuid cursed under his breath before grabbing the basket and giving it to the startled owner of the jewelry shop.

“Please keep these for us and you will be rewarded,” Diarmuid said as charmingly as he could. Then he took off after the group, followed closely by Archer. What the hell was going on? What altercation had he missed?

Even when they caught up it was hard to be sure because Olympia was suddenly sobbing all over Alexander, apologizing to him over and over. The boy had a mark on his cheek, already bruising, where his mother had slapped him. He was also trying to avoid Olympia’s attentions which were, to Diarmuid’s eyes, inappropriate.

_Are you seeing the same thing I’m seeing?_ Diarmuid asked as Hector managed to take control of the situation. He started working on Olympia, assuring her that it was quite alright, they all understood it had been a trying day. At the same time, he gazed at her a bit too forwardly, obviously displaying his attraction. Diarmuid might have thought Hector was being a fool but he noticed how the flattery got Olympia’s attention away from Alexander. Doing their part, Archer and Diarmuid helped Alexander.

“Are you well, my prince?” Archer asked as Diarmuid examined the damage. It looked superficial although there was a little blood, likely from Olympia’s nails. Alexander rubbed his cheek with a scowl.

“It’s fine,” he said and the wobble in his tone made Diarmuid think it wasn’t fine at all. “Where are your baskets?” Alexander was suddenly concerned but not for the items. “If they’ve been stolen father will make you pay for it!” And that would likely be a year’s wages.

“We left them with the jewel shop owner. Likely he kept them for us,” Diarmuid said. Any shopkeeper would want to be in good with Phillips’ wife. Of course, they couldn’t be entirely sure.

“Guarding you is always our primary duty. Such things come second,” Archer said calmly and Alexander bit his lip before shaking his head.

“We should go get them. Hector, can you escort mother home?” That would leave Alexander without a functional bodyguard but Diarmuid decided not to argue. This was a botch already and Alex could defend himself long enough for them to drop the stupid baskets. Hector immediately consented and led Olympia away, letting her take his arm.

_By the way, Diarmuid, I believe we saw the same thing,_ Archer’s mental voice was a touch cold as they went back to the jewelry shop. To everyone’s relief, the baskets were still there. _She was touching him like a lover, not a mother._

_Perhaps we were reading too much into it,_ Diarmuid said and heard Archer’s dry, mental snort.

_And perhaps we weren’t. I believe Alexander is going to need a great deal of help to survive this childhood intact._ Diarmuid’s thoughts went to the lost Parocles and he briefly mourned the man again. In the normal course of Alexander’s life that man must have been an incredibly powerful influence. What a horrible thing that his life had been cut short here. _Mmm. It pains me, but his spirit can likely take comfort in the fact that his death will keep Alexander alive. We still have to protect him from something and if Hector is one of us, it’s going to be big._

_Yes._ And Diarmuid was fairly sure now that Hector was a Counter Guardian. Not entirely sure, but close. How had Hector of Troy sold his soul? It would be interesting to find out. Diarmuid grimaced to himself as he felt more sweat trickle over his forehead, the pain in his arms. The baskets were so damned heavy! _Fuck Hector he is carrying a basket next time._ Archer’s dry chuckle was pleasant to his ears.

_Oh yes he is._ Feeling a bit more cheerful, Diarmuid and Archer followed Alexander home.

If nothing else, they could look forward to seeing Hector pulling his fair share.


	5. Bucephalus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector is crazy but everyone still likes him. Is it even possible not to like him?

The next few days convinced them that Hector was, without a doubt, a Counter Guardian. Also, recklessly insane.

“My god that’s a beautiful horse!” Hector’s eyes were bright as he admired the black stallion trotting easily in his paddock. Diarmuid admitted, to himself, that it was indeed a beautiful horse. Built more for speed than strength, which suited this era quite well. It wouldn’t be lugging around a knight in armor. Lovely, clean lines, but Diarmuid disliked the forehead. Diarmuid had no idea why it was so – it wasn’t true of humans – but for horses, broader foreheads were directly connected to more brains. As a horseman, Diarmuid had always wanted the sweet spot, a horse that was smart yet not _too_ smart.

This one was too smart. Diarmuid could see it in the breadth of that forehead and also the way he looked at them sometimes, like the stallion was measuring them and finding them wanting.

“A dangerous horse,” Archer said calmly and Diarmuid blinked. Archer wasn’t really a horseman, aside from the basic skills. “His name is Bucephalus.” Oh, of course, the legend of Alexander. This horse was specifically mentioned? He had to be a nightmare!

“That’s a nice name. I want to ride him,” Hector said and Diarmuid and Archer exchanged a glance.

_He’s either insane or the Tamer of Horses,_ Archer said and Diarmuid grimaced, glancing up at the sun. Another hot day and Alexander had ordered them to meet him here. He was in a meeting with his father and advisors at the moment and one of his father’s bodyguard would escort him here after. Diarmuid wasn’t sure if this arrangement was because they weren’t entirely trusted or because the discussions would be boring as watching paint dry.

_Most likely both – OH SHIT!_ Hector _meant_ it, the damned fool! He vaulted over the fence and Diarmuid tried to grab him but completely failed, the man’s chiton eeling away before he could get a grasp.

The stallion did not like the intrusion and immediately charged. Diarmuid and Archer watched, petrified, as Hector dodged with stunning agility. Then he snagged a handful of mane and pulled himself onto the stallion in a single smooth move.

Well, the horse did not like that _at all._ The explosion of bucking was impressive and Hector rode it out like a professional rodeo man. The stallion simply couldn’t get him off for all he tried. Diarmuid thought it was utterly insane but finally the stallion wore himself out and very reluctantly accepted the human on his back. Hector was grinning widely as he rode the horse and then –

“Sorry that took so long – oh my gods!” Alexander was staring at what was going on in front of him, slack jawed with amazements. “That’s, that’s my Bucephalus, no one can ride him but me, how…?”

“Hector is completely insane. Hector!” Diarmuid called and Hector looked over. His smile did have more than a bit of insanity to it.

“My lord! I am so glad you’re here! I’m a bit in trouble!” Hector called back and Diarmuid blinked. Trouble? “I think he’s going to attack me as soon as I get off!” …HAHAHA! “Please my lord, help?”

_So he’s riding Bucephalus but not really,_ Archer’s thought was full of amusement and Diarmuid grinned. The horse did look like it wanted to stomp Hector to death. Alexander cursed and went over the fence, going to his horse. He gently petted Bucephalus nose, holding him still for Hector to get off. Hopefully the horse wouldn’t –

But he did. As soon as Hector slid off Bucephalus tore away from Alexander and went after him. Fortunately they’d all been expecting that and Hector ran like the wind. Diarmuid and Archer were prepared and grabbed him, yanking him over the fence before the enraged stallion crashed into it. Big blocky teeth clashed in the air as they all scrambled for safety.

“Zeus, Ares and Apollo, that was amazing!” Completely. Insane. “Can I do it again?”

“No,” Archer said firmly as Diarmuid laughed. Alexander was calming his horse down again, who seemed to be mortally offended by what he’d been through. The stallion finally trotted away and Alexander joined them at the fence, although not bothering to come over.

“I was just hoping to introduce you. Bucephalus would let Parocles handle him, for minor things at least.” …God but that man must have been amazing. Poor Parocles. “I wasn’t expecting this. You must be an incredible horseman,” Alexander said to Hector, who smiled cheerfully. “I think he hates you though.” Oh, just a tad.

“I’ll win him over my lord, just you watch,” Hector said and Diarmuid was sure bribery would be involved. Horses and carrots, oh yes. “I doubt he’ll ever let me ride him. He’s a one person horse and you’re his person, I can tell.” Hmm, if Hector was Hector of Troy he wouldn’t know Alexander’s mythos, would he? He was an older hero. Although as a Counter Guardian he could have learned it later. “But I’ll likely be able to handle him after a bit of work.” That made Alexander look quite relieved.

“Oh good, I’m having to tend to him myself right now. I don’t mind doing the work but it’s a lot of work, especially cleaning his paddock.” A prince shoveling shit? Although it was horseshit. Tending to horses was a very noble thing to do, even the disgusting parts. Hector smiled cheerfully before glancing at them slyly.

“Well if I’m going to be doing that it’s only right that I not be carrying things for lady Olympia.” …Fuck you Hector! Archer’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Diarmuid shook his head.

“If you actually spend time shoveling shit, Hector, we’ll take you off the carrying things rotation,” Diarmuid said, resigned. “Although I think you’re getting the better part of this deal.” He’d rather spend time taking care of horses than carry Olympia’s crap any day. Alexander laughed at them before leading them away.

Bucephalus had seen enough of them for the day, but there were other horses and as Alexander’s bodyguard they needed their own. Hector inherited the horse belonging to the late Parocles, a beautiful roan stallion. Not a nightmare like Bucephalus but still a strong willed beast that needed a firm hand. Hector loved the horse and it seemed to love him right back. Sensing he was in good hands? Probably.

Alexander and Hector worked together selecting horses for Diarmuid and Archer. Diarmuid got a young gelding, a reasonably challenging steed for a good horseman. Diarmuid liked the look of him, particularly the fleabitten coat. Color was the last thing he cared about in a horse but it was still nice to have. Archer, meanwhile, was quickly pegged as a novice and got the easiest horse of the lot, an aged mare. Far from the glue pot but past her prime, she snuffled his hand in hopes of carrots.

“Here, feed them these – “ Oh, how nice of him! Diarmuid accepted a carrot from Alexander with a smile, using it to help make friends. Archer was smiling softly as he fed and petted his new horse.

“We’ll be spending time with them every day,” Diarmuid said, mostly to Archer. He looked a touch resigned as Hector looked puzzled.

“Of course we – oh, you really aren’t any kind of horseman are you? Yes, you should work with her every day,” Hector said, catching on. Archer sighed heavily.

“I admit to not being very fond of horses but she is quite nice. I will let you both instruct me.” Well, only one of them, unless Alexander was there too. They needed to guard him. Although it was quite likely Alex would be working with Bucephalus.

After that they began truly settling into their routine. Every day they looked after the horses and rode them a bit, getting them exercise and in Archer’s case, improving their skills. Normally Diarmuid helped Archer while Hector worked with Alexander, but gradually Bucephalus came to accept Diarmuid as well. Then sometimes Hector worked with Archer. The person Bucephalus did not accept at all was Archer, not because there was anything wrong with him but because the smart beast sensed a novice he could easily bully. They tried but after Archer got pinned to the fence in a ‘loving’ rub, they decided it just wasn’t worth it.

As time went on, though, Archer and Diarmuid got to see the way the family interacted and they did not like it at all.

_What in hell are they fighting about this time?_ Archer asked Diarmuid who shrugged. Hector was with them, looking completely unsettled.

_God knows._ Phillip and Alexander were going at it. This didn’t happen often but that was only because Phillip usually wasn’t around. Whenever he and Alex met they seemed to go at it like cats and dogs and Diarmuid was glumly certain why. _Phillip is like my father but Alexander is no me._ Diarmuid had never really stood up for himself against his father, trying to placate the man. Just thinking about it made his heart hurt. Alexander, though, was quite a different sort and sparks were flying all over the place. Archer’s hand was suddenly circling his wrist and Diarmuid blinked before looking up and seeing compassion in his lover’s face.

“Don’t think of the past,” Archer said and Diarmuid swallowed around the lump in his throat. Hector sighed and they both looked at him.

“I hate seeing the boy like this, I hate hearing this. My own father had his flaws but it was nothing like this,” Hector said unhappily and Diarmuid reached out to grip his shoulder. Truly, it was painful to be forced to sit and listen, unable to do a thing.

Finally, though, it reached the point where they _could_ do something. That was the point where they heard the sound of a blow.

“My lord!” Knowing full well Phillips’ bodyguard wouldn’t do anything – they had to live with the bastard – Diarmuid jerked out of his seat to go help Alexander. Archer and Hector were both close behind.

What they found was not quite what they might have expected. Phillip had hit Alexander and Diarmuid could see what was going to be a very impressive black eye. But Alexander was swinging back, despite the fact that he was smaller than Phillip. Diarmuid thought that might have gone very badly for him but then Archer was yanking Phillip back as Diarmuid did the same for Alexander.

“My lords, please, think of my lady Olympia!” Hahah Hector would that actually work? Come to think of it, it might. “How much would it hurt her to see the two men in her life fighting this way?” And it was working, on Alexander anyway. He was looking stricken although Phillip was made of sterner stuff.

“The woman has nothing to do with this! I am your father and you’ll give me what I need!” …Say what? Diarmuid glanced at Archer, who met his gaze. “The sorcerer comes with me on campaign!” Wait, what?!?

“No he shall not! He’s my bodyguard now father, you can’t have him,” Alexander riposted as Diarmuid let go of him, shocked. Phillip wanted him? “I only have three of them and you can’t take two of them! And I shan’t let you take Daud without Archer!” Diarmuid felt a fierce pride in Alexander at that moment.

“Two warriors cannot be bound by Aphrodite, that’s absurd!” Fuck you too Phillip. “I need that sorcerer for my campaign. His skills are priceless!” Diarmuid suddenly suspected Phillip was pulling this now because Olympia wasn’t around to object.

“It does not matter what you believe,” Archer’s voice was cold as ice and everyone looked at him, in Phillips’ case a little shocked to hear the usually silent man talking. “Our loyalty goes to the man that earns it.” Oh burn! “If you attempt to do this to us we shall desert and make our way back to Crete.”

“Your grandfather had a mill didn’t he?” Diarmuid said aloud as Phillip sputtered. “Maybe we could buy into the business.” They had a nest egg! Of course they really couldn’t but Phillip didn’t know that.

“You bastards! I’ll have you both executed for treason!” Phillip raged and Alexander immediately riposted.

“You shall not! Aphrodite would curse you father! Zeus would curse you!” Something odd passed over Phillips’ face in that moment. Apprehension? Mixed with… Diarmuid could have sworn it was hate. Yet he couldn’t understand why that emotion would be directed towards Alexander. His own father had never looked at him that way, for all his flaws.

“Very well. You can have your way, brat,” Phillip said before exiting the room in a dramatic swirl of his cloak. His own bodyguard followed and Diarmuid pitied them. He had no doubt Phillip was the kind of man to take his temper out on them. Hopefully with a few good spars, that would be the acceptable outlet. Alexander sighed, running a hand over his face. It only shook a little.

“My lord, let me look at that,” Hector said gently and Alexander nodded, taking a seat and letting his bodyguard tend to him. “Hmm, a bit of ice would help the swelling and if we get some water, perhaps Daud can make you some.” …Ah.

“No, I can’t. I’m too strong in fire, I’ve never been able to do a thing with ice,” Diarmuid said and then Archer spoke.

“Daud, have you ever tried using the fire runes to suck the heat out of something? You could make ice that way.” …He could? Diarmuid had never considered it. He gazed at Archer, who gave him a one shoulder shrug. “You could try.” And with his powers so far locked down it was unlikely he’d hurt anything.

To Diarmuid’s shock and bemusement, it worked perfectly. It wasn’t even that much of a strain, because stealing the heat from the water gave him a tiny bit of power back. Soon Alexander had an ice pack against his bruising eye and Hector was seeing the commercial possibilities.

“Daud, we could open a shaved ice stand!” Oh really. “And flavor the ices with lemon and a bit of honey! It would be a great hit!” Hector’s eyes were getting starry at the possibility of money. Diarmuid exchanged an amused glance with Archer.

“When would we find time for this?” Archer asked and Hector suddenly looked downcast. “And now that you’ve told us your marvelous idea, why should we share any of the money with you?” Hector’s mouth opened soundlessly as Alexander laughed.

“How terribly hurtful,” Hector sounded truly hurt indeed. “You’d just steal my idea? I thought we were friends!” Hahaha Hector.

“Alright, you can have a third of the shares of our business. But keep in mind that a third of zero is still zero,” Diarmuid said and Archer chuckled softly as Alexander smiled at their antics. Diarmuid was very glad to see that. Alexander was often depressed and angry after a clash with his father although he never took it out on them.

_Archer, did you notice the look on Phillip’s face?_ Diarmuid lapsed into silent communication as everything went back to normal. Alexander was working with a tutor on his writing skills at the moment. Not Aristotle although Diarmuid was sure he’d be summoned soon. Archer nodded, honey brown eyes thoughtful.

_I believe it is because Alexander is not his son._ Say what?! Diarmuid barely managed to keep the shock off his face. Archer’s dry mental chuckle made him blush. _Idiot. Don’t his eyes remind you of someone?_ Alexander’s eyes? Who would they remind him… of…

“My god,” Diarmuid breathed. Cu Chulainn had eyes like that, red and pupiled a bit oddly. Now that he thought of it Alexander’s were exactly the same. “Divine blood.” It had to be. “Zeus?” It would have to be him, the philandering bastard. Archer nodded.

_Yes, it’s part of Alexander’s mythos that he’s the son of Zeus. The stories seem to indicate his parents both revered him on account of it. However, it seems they were wrong,_ Archer’s thought was very dry and Diarmuid swallowed. No wonder Phillip didn’t get along with Alexander.

_He likely wishes his own sons would inherit but has no legitimate way to make that happen,_ Diarmuid thought and felt Archer’s agreement. _Although perhaps the issue has been progressing._ It would have been simple enough to eliminate Alexander as a child but Phillip hadn’t done it. Perhaps the personality clashes were making the resentment worse. Archer snorted softly.

_Or perhaps Phillip is afraid of angering Zeus. After all, if Alexander truly is his son the god would certainly take exception to having him murdered in the cradle._ Ah, that was true wasn’t it. _You see why Phillip would be angry at Alexander invoking his true father’s name._

_Ah, yes._ That would be a very bitter pill to swallow, wouldn’t it. _What should we do?_ Archer’s one-shoulder shrug was eloquent.

_There is nothing we can do except help him to survive this. This is part of what made him who he is._ Diarmuid swallowed at the thought, suddenly thinking of his own father. He didn’t like to think of that man’s disapproval shaping him but he was honest enough to admit it probably had. A warm hand went around his wrist, giving him a comforting squeeze and Diarmuid turned his head to meet compassionate honey brown eyes. He couldn’t resist then and kissed Archer, warm and slow and intimate. As they parted, Diarmuid saw Archer’s eyes hazed with lust and felt a tug lower. He manfully set it aside. They had a full day ahead of them. Then a thought occurred to him and he suddenly chuckled. Archer blinked at him, surprised.

“What?” Archer asked and Diarmuid smiled before explaining.

“Just thinking that if my father caught me laying with another man, he’d have chased me halfway to Britain!” The thought was hilarious yet oh, so wrong. Archer blinked before chuckling softly.

“I can’t imagine my father having that reaction. But Fujimara-san would likely have beaten me half to death for… a variety of reasons.” Archer paused for a moment, reflecting on it. Then he shook his head. “I would rather not even think about it.”

The rest of the day passed as usual, tutoring and practice, time spent with the horses. Diarmuid noticed that Alexander spent quite a while just talking softly to Bucephalus, gently petting his coat. The thought made his heart twist a little because he remembered doing something similar, but to a cat. What had her name been? Sofi, yes, very cuddly and willing to be held.

That night, in the baths, Diarmuid watched Hector with heavy lidded eyes. Hector was sitting on the edge of the bath, examining his leg and foot with a small frown. As Diarmuid watched he lifted his leg and placed his foot on his knee, checking for something? Engaged in that homely task, Hector was really quite attractive. Diarmuid watched a bit of water trickling down Hector’s chest as he struggled to find whatever was bothering him.

_Stop ogling him,_ Archer’s thought caught him off guard and Diarmuid almost blushed. Turning his head he met amused honey brown eyes. _Do you want him? I don’t mind._ Diarmuid caught his lower lip in his teeth, biting it lightly.

_Only if you want to,_ Diarmuid thought and Archer glanced at Hector thoughtfully. He’d stopped fiddling with his feet and was stretching out his arms, grasping his elbow as his arm was behind his back. His skin was beautifully tanned on the spots that saw the sun, pale everywhere else. Diarmuid saw a small smile quirk Archer’s lips.

_I think I would like to. What shall we do to him?_ Archer asked and Diarmuid sent him a wordless image. _Hmm, perhaps –_ the returning image made Diarmuid feel a heat on his cheeks but he contemplated it. Unaware they were discussing his fate, Hector slid into the water with a sigh and closed his eyes, leaning against the edge of the pool. Diarmuid noticed how soft and fluffy his hair looked, curling damply around his face.

Moving with the impulse, Diarmuid silently settled in beside Hector. Brown eyes opened lazily then sharpened with surprise, which deepened into shock as Archer settled on Hector’s other side. Hector opened his mouth but Diarmuid didn’t let him speak, silencing him with a kiss. The lips against his were still for a moment before Hector suddenly caught on. Then passion was returned for passion and Diarmuid savored Hector’s taste, so similar to Archer yet subtly different. Diarmuid ran a hand through Hector’s hair, noticing it was as fluffy as it looked as he deepened the kiss.

“Ah, you… oh…” Hector gasped as they parted and Diarmuid grinned as eyelids fluttered. Archer had slid down a bit and captured one of Hector’s nipples in his mouth, sucking tenderly on the small piece of flesh. “I, right here?” Ah yes, that wasn’t such a good idea was it. Anyone could happen by at any time, despite the hour.

“No, we should take this to our rooms. Archer?” Archer’s eyes flicked up and Diarmuid felt the mischief in his mind just before he let go of Hector’s nipple with a lewd pop. Then he breathed on the wet flesh, making Hector shudder.

_He’s lucky his chiton will hide his erection,_ Archer thought as they left the bath. Hector was blushing as he struggled to get his body under control. Diarmuid chuckled softly.

_So that’s why they wore these!_ Oh, it wasn’t true at all, but wouldn’t it be funny if it was? And it did help hide Hector’s problem when he pinned it in place. They quickly went back to their rooms and Diarmuid felt amused as he saw how lightly Hector was moving. He really wanted this quite badly, didn’t he?

As soon as they were safely into their rooms, Diarmuid and Archer were onto Hector. The soft fabric of the chiton fell away, revealing that lean, strong body again. This time Archer pulled Hector into a kiss while Diarmuid pressed up close to his back, feeling the warmth of his body. He was different from Archer, a touch taller and lighter built, but that was nice. Diarmuid kissed Hector’s throat, sucking on the warm skin.

“Aphrodite bless me,” Hector breathed and Diarmuid smiled to himself, sliding a hand in front of him and finding that there was already a hand on Hector’s cock. Chuckling softly into Hector’s ear, Diarmuid slid his hand a bit lower and gently caressed his balls. “Oh! Ah… how will we…?” Hector asked before groaning softly as Archer stopped what he was doing and pushed Diarmuid’s hand away. Then Archer rested his hands on Hector’s shoulders and pushed him towards the fleece blankets.

“On your back,” Archer ordered and Diarmuid smiled as Hector looked intrigued before obeying and settling onto the blankets. Archer settled between his legs, smiling before he gripped Hector’s cock again. Diarmuid passed over the oil and Archer took it, using it to grease his palm and fingers. Hector spread his legs and Archer began preparing him, sliding oil coated fingers into his hole. As he prepared Hector, Diarmuid settled in beside them. He paused for a moment to just look at Hector’s face, the warm lust and desperate need. Hector met his eyes and smiled, an expression that sent a warm heat to Diarmuid’s cock. Diarmuid gently cupped Hector’s cheek before sliding a hand behind Hector’s head, finding his hair was as soft as it looked. They kissed then and Diarmuid savored the taste of Hector’s mouth again, enjoying every moment.

_He’s ready._ Archer’s thought prompted Diarmuid to move. Hector made a small, surprised sound as Diarmuid gripped his head, positioning himself so he was facing Archer. Archer smiled at him before gripping Hector’s thighs and sliding into his body. Hector groaned before Diarmuid silenced him with his cock. Hector took it willingly and Diarmuid shuddered at the feel of Hector’s hot throat around his cock, a warm hand cupping his balls. Then he leaned forward and caught Archer’s lips, as they kissed above Hector.

“Diarmuid…” Archer breathed his name and for a brief moment Diarmuid wondered if they should use their real names. Oh hell, what did it matter? If Hector was a Counter Guardian he might recognize the name but he probably wouldn’t. The scars were deceptive, too.

“Shirou,” Diarmuid said before catching Archer’s lips again. As he did, Hector hummed deep in his throat and Diarmuid moaned into Archer’s mouth. He caught Archer’s shoulders in his hands, steadying himself and Emiya’s hand went through his hair, deepening the kiss. Archer’s tongue explored his mouth and Diarmuid returned the favor, sampling the flavor. Archer’s mouth tasted so crisp and clean, reminding him of a stream in the high mountains.

_This feels incredible,_ Archer’s thought was full of pleasure and Diarmuid hummed softly in his mouth.

_It is amazing._ Taking Hector to their bed had been a good idea. As the kiss ended Diarmuid groaned, shuddering at the beautiful suction tormenting his cock. He dropped his hands, finding Hector’s nipples and gently tweaking them. Then a finger tapped his arm and Diarmuid blinked before looking down. Hector was pointing down at –

_Archer, he wants some help down there,_ Diarmuid laughed silently as he looked at Hector’s neglected erection. It was big and dripping, desperate for attention. Archer smiled, his eyes light with amusement.

_So demanding._ But he obeyed the request, a tanned hand caressing pale, velvety skin. Diarmuid watched as Archer speeded his thrusts, taking Hector more firmly. The sight of the two of them together, Hector’s thighs holding Archer tight, was beautiful. Tanned flesh meeting pale, the way Hector’s cock bounced at every thrust, Archer’s hand stroking him…

Diarmuid realized he was getting close, the pressure building in his balls as the tight heat around his cock urged him onwards. Shuddering, he rested his hands on Hector’s chest, feeling that scar beneath his fingers. Tracing it he felt Hector jerk and the pleasure suddenly crested. Abruptly fearing he might almost drown his partner, Diarmuid pulled back and his cum sprayed over Hector’s face and chest. He heard Hector’s breathy gasp and looked up to see Archer’s face, the way his eyelids flickered and his lips parted just before he came. The pleasure on Archer’s face and the sight of Hector’s squirting cock made Diarmuid breathless.

“You’ve both corrupted me,” he murmured, still stunned by the sight. What had happened to the man who’d slept with half the women in Ireland? Well no, he hadn’t, largely because of the beauty spot but he’d still left a good trail behind him. How had he gone from that to this? Archer’s chuckle was music to his ears and a warm hand cupped his cheek, drawing him into another kiss. There was a laugh beneath him and Diarmuid looked down, startled.

“You just slapped me in the face with your cock,” Hector said, his eyes heavy lidded and expression content. Diarmuid blushed as Hector smiled. “Don’t worry, I have no pride.” …HAH!

“We might have noticed. Sorry about that, by the way, but I was afraid you might choke,” Diarmuid said as Archer pulled out of Hector’s body and reached for the rags. Diarmuid still thought he’d made the correct decision, even if it was messy. In this position Hector couldn’t pull away if the flow was too much. Hector accepted a rag and began to clean off his face.

“That’s fine. If you had choked me I might have puked and that would have been a terrible end to the night,” Hector said before suddenly looking at him, his eyes dark and shockingly vulnerable. “Do you mind if I stay?” The wistfulness of the question, the painful loneliness Diarmuid could sense, made his breath catch in his throat.

“Of course you can,” he said huskily before cursing himself and looking at Archer. But Archer just nodded with a small, understanding smile. _Of course we both understand. If Hector truly is one of us, he must be so lonely._ The World forbade them the release of insanity and didn’t much seem to care about their mental stability. As they all settled in to bed together, Diarmuid to one side of Hector and Archer the other, he breathed in the man’s scent. Different from Archer, a little muskier, but it was permeated with damp earth and beneath that, the faintest tang of stars. “You smell like the stars,” Diarmuid breathed in Hector’s ear.

“Mmm… what do the stars smell like?” Hector mumbled, already half-asleep. Diarmuid chuckled before responding.

“They smell like lightning on a summer day. They smell like the tall mountain peaks, when colors dance in the sky,” he’d seen that on one of their missions and caught the tang of stars. “They smell like the star runes, when I dare to use them. And they smell like you,” Diarmuid said before realizing Hector was already asleep. Had he caught any of that?

_No, but I did, and it was beautiful. Go to sleep,_ Archer’s sleepy thought touched him and Diarmuid chuckled before closing his eyes, comforted by the warm combination of scents. Of all of them, he loved that subtle hint of the stars best. Although he wasn’t sure what it symbolized.

Perhaps he would figure it out someday.


End file.
